


First We Feast, Then We Kiss

by Kdin, ZeroMonster



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Comfort Food, Erik is the Finest of Chefs, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Mutual Pining, new neighbours
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kdin/pseuds/Kdin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroMonster/pseuds/ZeroMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles leaves Westchester County to live by himself in a small apartment. And although he has an IQ over 160, moving in results in a complete disaster. Thankfully, Charles' new neighbour, Erik, is there to aid his miserable soul. And since Erik is a master chef, a series of quite delicious meals that could make anyone fall in love get in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First We Feast, Then We Kiss

 Beautiful Sunday morning, perfect for moving in.

Hank and Raven had given Charles a ride to his new home. It was a nice gesture but it didn't made Charles feel any less of the abandonment, which wasn't exactly abandonment, just the fact that they had found an apartment in Florida and they were happily dating.

At least both of them helped Charles bring his boxes inside. Only four of them, to keep things easy; after all, he had to focus on his thesis, and three boxes contained Charles' most important belongings, aka books. Terribly heavy books. Meanwhile he saved a good part of his wardrobe and all his hygiene objects on a suitcase, his laptop and chargers were also there, waiting to be used night and day. 

“This looks like a very nice neighbourhood.” Hank stated carefully, he had noticed how upset Charles had been all the afternoon and couldn’t help to feel a little guilty about it. He opened the trunk and lifted two boxes by himself. 

It sure wasn’t the best neighbourhood in New York City but the building seemed nice, with quiet, old neighbours and things that Charles was fond of, like working in silence.                                                          

“Yes, sure if you go out at night you might as well be offered drugs and that’s,” She made a face and grabbed the first box she saw; Raven’s way to lighten the mood was a bit unconventional.                                                                 

“I get it.” He really didn’t.            

*** 

"Oh my god, Charles. You listened to me."

Raven panted as they got up the stairs, great day for the elevator to stop working. _Lovely_.

"Have I?" Charles led the way and stopped to turn his head. Hank raised an eyebrow and seemed to have no trouble carrying the luggage.

"You packed _all_ your tea mugs, didn't you?" She laughed at the rattle inside her box. "I wasn’t serious about it. These are your mugs, right?" 

"They are, thank you." Charles was struggling with a suitcase the size of Texas, he didn’t have time to argue. He was starting to pant himself. Living on the sixth floor wasn't the best of deals but he took what he could. "I thought I rather have them here than leave them in Westchester."

"Wait," Charles was ignoring everything by this point. _Apartment_ _6_ _01, this is it._ He placed his suitcase carefully next to him while Raven and Hank lined up behind him, ready to leave his stuff inside and say goodbye for a long time. "You left your pillow…"  

"Stop," He dug into his cardigan’s pocket to get his key, he was a hundred percent sure it was there but he was starting to lose his patience.

Hank, however, raised his voice. "…And your bed sheets, but you packed your _tea_ _mugs_?"

The door opened after the fifth attempt. _Amazing_ , Charles thought to himself, _my front door lock is mired._

 _I am going to die_ _in_ _here._

_***_

_"_ Thank you for the help," Charles finally said when they were heading back to their car. "It was a lovely gesture."

Raven pulled his brother into a hug, Charles let her do it and sunk his face in her hair. "You'll be fine." She rubbed his back lovingly. "I know you'll feel lonely,” 

"I guess." He pouted and even when Raven couldn’t see it, she knew.

"It's alright." She pulled away when Charles really didn't want to let go. "You can always buy yourself a plant."

He looked back at her with real grief and faked a smile. "Hilarious."

Hank and Charles shook hands and hugged, just as tight enough to leave Charles airless at his lungs. “Work hard on that thesis,”

“Drive safe.” Charles stood back and watched Raven hop in and start the car. “Call me when you get there.”

***

Pretty minimalist, but it didn’t bother Charles much. He had a desk, a bed and a mini bar. That’d do, right? He spent the rest of the day unpacking his books and studying on no end. Until his phone rang and took him out of that living dead state.

“Hello?” Just hearing the sound of his own voice made him realise how tired he actually was.

“Did you have dinner yet?” Raven went straight to business.

“No, should I have?”

“Hey, you've been pretty cranky these days,” She was trying to help, Charles was almost sure. “Why don’t you go to the supermarket and distract yourself. Maybe you can cook?”

“I’ve never...” The speaker shouted back at him instantly.

“Exactly! It will be fun!”

***

He didn’t have an umbrella with him so his clothes got wet with the rain, but there he was, forcing the door to his new apartment open.  It would have been amusing to see because he was pressing his paper bags to his body with one arm so they wouldn’t fall, and holding a small plant in a black pot with the crook of his ‘free’ forcing-the-bloody-doorknob arm 

“Do you need help with that?” A voice said behind him. How long had he been watching? Charles didn’t bother to turn his head, he wanted to be kind and say hello to his new neighbour, but he wanted to open his _goddamned door_ _first._

“I’ve got it,” He grunted against the wood. “Thank you very mu-“ He lost the hang of it when he turned his head and saw him. He dropped his bags in a loud mess, his new belongings sprayed on the floor but somehow managed to save his new friend, the plant.

“Let me help you,” The man spoke with an accent, was it German? It sounded like German. He pulled out the black coat, jeans and shoes outfit pretty well. Charles picked up his bags clumsy yetfast, hurrying before his neighbour could actually help him. “Sometimes the locks get stuck when it rains.” But it didn't seem to be no more. The man turned the key and it opened first attempt.

“Thank you,” Charles beamed and felt small beside him.

“Erik,” He smiled back, charming and for some reason intimidating. “Erik Lehnsherr, I live in front of you.”

“Charles Xavier, it is a pleasure to meet you, Erik.”

“Pleasure’s mine.”

***

When he _finally_ made it into his apartment, he was still smiling like an idiot. Erik´s smile was there every time he closed his eyes and _oh God_ was he really pining about a man he had met less than an hour ago? Hank was wrong, living alone _was_ going to shatter his sanity.

He managed to put his groceries in its place (the oh-so-helpful minibar) and his new plant over the kitchen counter. He was almost dry now but he was also _so tired,_ he decided to have a shower and then go to bed. He could see the sky getting darker and darker through the bathroom window. When hegot out of the shower, his hands ruffling his warm, damp hair, he remembered Hank's words.

“I didn’t packed my pillow” he stopped and whispered to himself. _He couldn’t sleep without his pillow_ _._ And which was worse, he had forgotten to buy one at the supermarket. At every other trip he had made with Raven the first thing they had packed had been his pillow. He wondered if his subconscious had forgotten it just for the sake of making him miserable.

Now on the verge of admitting a big wave of depression, he practically crawled to his bed and as soon as he balled up on his side, with an arm pillowing his head, Charles’ track of thought got lost in the memory of blue eyes and what had been definitely a German accent.

***

The key for a successful thesis was lots of caffeine, no sleep, no friends and no family. Charles discovered this after a week of living alone, he later discovered that one thing he did need for survival was food. He was almost out of groceries now, the only thing left was a bag of frozen fries at the bottom of the minibar; he grabbed the bag and poured its content on a tray because he had an oven but no microwave (nor dishes, by any matter). Charles turned on the oven and returned to his books while he felt mildly ashamed of how low he had fallen.

He was in the middle of a chapter about “Analysis of metabolic and transcriptional networks in stationary state” when an odd smell made him look up from his book. It smelled like something was _burning_ , Charles frowned and then it hit him, he ran into the kitchen, opened the oven and took out the tray, he regretted it because the smell filled his lungs and smoke got into his eyes. _Smoke?_ Why this kind of things always happen to him? As in cue the smoke detector went off in that moment. _Awesome._

Charles started coughing and that goddamned shrilling noise just wouldn’t _stop_. He was done, so he crossed the living room and stumbled with a pile of empty cans and take outs (trash apparently doesn’t vanish when you forget about it), he got out his apartment and leaned against the wall closing his eyes and breathing in order to calm himself. He was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and someone’s voice.

“What- _oh gesegnet…”_ Erik was staring at his apartment through the open door like he didn’t fully understand what was in front of him, his mouth was slightly parted but he closed it when he noticed Charles standing there 

“Uhm, hello Charles. It’s good to see you again.” despite the ridiculous situation Erik sounded _sincere._ Charles found himself smiling again. There was a pause and Erik was again frowning at the screech. “Is your apartment on fire?” he asked somewhat amused, though Charles could hear the concern behind his voice.

“Oh no! Calm down, I will not burn our building to the ground. I’m just a failure as a human being and I've left something in the oven, the smoke detector went off with the smoke and…” Charles stopped speaking because Erik had returned to his apartment leaving him standing in the hallway, before he could figure out what did that mean Erik returned to meet him and he was carrying a vacuum.

“It’s okay, it happens all the time; the smoke detectors are the same they were in the seventies. May I?” Erik was looking at him waiting for an answer.

“Uhm, sure” Erik entered the apartment and Charles followed him inside. What was he going to do? Vacuum it? “Oh”.

Erik was in fact vacuuming his smoke detector, suddenly Charles felt he wasn’t the craziest person in the room. “Open the windows so the smoke can fade” Charles did.  Just when he was about to ask Erik what he was doing, the beeping stopped. “We have to extract the smoke from your detector, sometimes even dust trapped in there make them go off”

“Wow, that was… brilliant! Thank you,” Erik smiled at him and the vacuum’s handle swung painfully near the pot on the counter “Oh no! Don’t hit Peter!” Erik froze and looked over his shoulder but there wasn’t anyone. Charles flushed, and again he felt very small.

“Who’s Peter?” asked Erik.

“It’s uhm… my fern.” His voice was so small he wasn’t sure if Erik had heard him.

Erik looked at his plant. “You named your fern Peter?” Oh well, he had heard him.  

“Yes…?” Charles was pointedly looking anywhere but Erik.

“Oh, that’s cute actually” At _this_ Charles looked at Erik who was respectively staring at him with a stunned look that surely matched his, like he didn’t mean to say that out loud. Before the awkward silence became even more awkward, Erik asked “So, why Peter?”

Erik wanted to _ruin_ him, but he managed to article a coherent answer "Uh, ferns are scientifically catalogued among other vascular plants in the group of _Pteridophyte Plants_ so Pteridophyte… Peter seemed adequate,” That sounded better in his head, but a life of living with Raven had prepared him for any reaction Erik could had.

But Erik was looking at him with a strange combination of curiosity and _fondness_. “Well, I don’t know about plants but I do know something about cooking without setting the apartment on fire… Maybe I could teach you sometime?” Now he looked hopefully at Charles.

“Oh? Sure. I would really appreciate that, thank you.” How they have come to this, Charles will never know but it didn’t matter when Erik was smiling at him like that.

“Actually,” Erik turned his head to see the burnt potatoes, black like carbon. Maybe he felt bad for Charles, he frowned. “I’m almost done cooking dinner, maybe you want to join me?”

Charles’ expression lit up for the first time in a while. He was starting to get a headache with how hungry he was. “I’d love to, if that’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not,” Erik walked to the door and Charles followed him, he had the opportunity to breathe in Erik’s aftershave.

***

Erik’s apartment whispered the word _sophisticated_ to Charles every now and then when he looked at a different piece of elegant furniture like it had its own mind and feelings. There was baroque art on the walls, clear colours making a beautiful contrast with the dark red/maroon of the walls. Charles remembered all of sudden that he had bought a poster of _The Starry Night_ of Van Gogh on his trip to the one and only library in the neighbourhood. He had completely forgotten about it, but then again, he had forgotten the food on the oven as well. He brought the palm of his hand to his face.

“Is everything okay?” Erik asked from the kitchen; his eyes barely hovered over Charles. He paid more attention to the multiple tasks he was masterfully attaining: salting water and adding pasta to it, whisking a dozen of different ingredients together in a small sauce pan and sprinkling top a salad with sesame seeds.

Charles stared in awe, were they even the same species? Assuming that Erik was mutant… “I’m fine.” He stepped closer to the kitchen counter and a thousand smells hit him at the same time, each one as delicious as the last one. He felt like he needed to sit down.

“The table is set. It will only take a moment.”

***

After offering help a couple of times Charles gave up and sat by himself on the circle dining table for two. He wondered if Erik had a significant other. Maybe they were on a business trip or something of that nature. He could know whenever he wanted by bringing to fingers to his temple but he had sworn to himself that he’d never read other people’s minds without their consent.

A plate appeared in front of him and the delightful scent brought him back to reality, which actually seemed to be a dream.

“Creamy Pesto Shrimp.” Erik placed the serving of his own on his spot and went back to the kitchen.

Charles felt rude for not saying _thank you_ and maybe apologizing for smiling like a dork. When Erik came back he had one large plate on each hand.

“Bourbon Pecan Chicken,” he said as he placed the first one on the centre: fried chicken breasts coated in pecan breading, all beautifully decorated; “and Grilled Ginger-Sesame Chicken Chopped Salad.”

“Th-“ Charles didn’t know what to say first and tried to be careful to not mix the words in his sentence. “This looks amazing, Erik.” He smiled as the other sat down and nodded his head, curving his lips proudly. “Thank you very much.”

“Please,” Erik gestured for Charles’ plate as an invitation for him to begin.

They both grabbed their forks at the same time; Charles looked down at his plate so he could focus on what ingredients it had. The pasta was a light green and on top of it there were small pinkish shrimps. He put his fork in the middle and turned it a few times before bringing it to his mouth. He did it again. And another time. He could recognise Parmesan cheese, pepper, heavy cream but he would have never thought of adding them to pasta. His eyes flooded with a mix of bliss and fatigue and he felt a tear leave a trail of dampness on his cheek; he sobbed quietly, he was unable to contain it.

“Charles?” He heard Erik’s concern and felt stupid, he looked down and wiped the tears away, hiding one or two sniffles.

“Oh, goodness. I am sorry.” He still held the fork with one hand. “It’s just…” Everything Charles owned ended up betraying him, like the way he forgot his pillow. He wept a bit louder. “This is so good.” He saw Erik’s worry fade significantly.

He remembered once when he was just as tired, maybe less. It was early morning, Raven was asleep on the couch and Charles hadn’t finished his assignments and he was out of black tea and coffee. Then Raven woke up at nine in the morning and found his brother crying.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked.

“I want a chocolate malt.” He cried.

***

Never in his life had Charles tasted something so heavenly.

Due to the fact that he was a walking disaster, and after setting many meals on fire, Raven always cooked the meals and let Charles take care of the peanut butter sandwiches as midnight snacks. At least Raven _tried,_ but most of the time she used too much salt or it was burnt on the edges.

For the moment he could only be a bit ashamed of crying in front of Erik, too much of his attention was drawn completely at tasting the delicacies he was kindly offered, because possibly it would be the last time he’d have _haute cuisine_ for dinner. He started to get full at the salad but he didn’t want to give up on his plate.

“This has been exquisite.” Charles sipped on his glass of water. He definitely felt better now. “I had never tasted something as good.”

“Thank you,” Erik tapped the corner of his lips with his napkin. “I make a living out of it.”

“You do?” So it _was_ haute cuisine.  He wasn’t that surprised at all. Erik nodded turning his head a little to sip on his glass; Charles’ eyes fixed on his well-defined jawline.

“I’m Hauk’s _chef de cuisine_.”

“Impressive.” He was making a pleasant eye contact with Erik, they shared their expressions and Erik seemed to be enjoying the way Charles’ eyebrows rose when he was amazed by something. Raven always mentioned how it was cute. “Must be rough.”

“It is. Now more than ever. We got a Rising Star last year; that means that the restaurant is most likely to receive its Michelin Stars back.”

“Back?” He had heard something about it somewhere, probably from watching The Food Network on the background while he tried to doze off to sleep.

“We had a difficult stage, our kitchen was a disaster.” Erik coughed into the crook of his arm. “I was having a bad time, and everything around me was affected. I lost my two stars.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Erik shrugged and got up to take the dirty plates back to the kitchen. Charles hadn’t realised he had finished his last plate.

“A Rising Star means we are most likely to be visited by an inspector.” Charles got up as well and helped by bringing the empty glasses to the dishwasher. “Work is getting very tough these days.”

“I hope you get your stars back.” He smiled sincerely. At least he wasn’t the only exhausted-to-death one; Erik had circles under his eyes and yet, the way his blue eyes lightened up at Charles’ best wish made his stomach start to perform intricate back flips and made the insides feel like fluttering.

*** 

The first thing Charles did when he crossed the hall and went into his apartment was water Peter. Looking around, its light green colour was the only thing that broke the dullness of the apartment. He closed the window after looking outside for a moment, it was dark but he could see how cloudy the sky was. 

He played _The XX_ on his phone so he wouldn't feel the strike of solitude while he prepared himself a cup of black tea with the last lactose-free milk in the carton. 

Time passed as slow as the galaxies move across the universe, and after trying to read the same paragraph about genomes assembly without being able to understand more than five words he closed the book and pinched the bridge of his nose. The only image projected on his mind was good, good enough to encourage him to have a five-minute break while he over-meditated the possibility of him being or not in love with a German head chef with a noteworthy shoulder-to-waist ratio.

He stopped the music so he could call his sister; he needed, _compulsory needed,_ to tell Raven about Erik. But the ringing kept on and no one picked it up. Charles didn’t give up and called a few more times, although he knew there would be no answer. He sighed and downed the last sip of his tea, which was barely warm. 

Five good minutes passed as he looked for the page he was on and he kept on reading until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He rested his forehead on the multiple thousands of words in the page and lost himself into the first stage of Non-REM sleep.

*** 

Charles thought he was dreaming that his apartment was on fire by a familiar beeping that wouldn’t cease, but when he lifted his head he gladly found out that it was only his phone ringing 

“Thanks for calling me back,” His voice was throaty, as if he had slept for at least six hours. He rubbed his eyes so he could see the time without it being blurry.

“Yeah, you know? You can’t call when Hank and I are having int–“ 

“How am I supposed to know when that is?!"

Raven sighed into the speaker, “You are a lousy telepath, Charles.”                                                           

He turned his phone momentarily. “It’s eight already?"                                                       

“You haven’t slept well, huh?” 

“I haven’t done _anything_ well.”

"You see? And you never appreciated what I did for you when we lived together... So what's up? "

"Nothing, I've been crushing for this gorgeous man this whole time and a plant has been soothing my loneliness."

 "You're such a drama queen, Charles Francis Xavier. Now if you excuse me, I’m smelling something _maple_ _syruped_ involved."


End file.
